


You & Me

by danniperson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danniperson/pseuds/danniperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're mourning you, Severus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You & Me

They're mourning you, Severus.

 

You didn't think they would; thought they'd rejoice your passing.  You never understood that you hated yourself more than anyone else could.  You never really believed in their respect or appreciation of you.  Hopefully wherever you are now, you finally see it.

 

You were only five days into being sixty nine, and it's too young.  I'm a widower at forty eight, and it's not fair, that I have to live the rest of my life without you.  You won't be here for Evan's first professional game, or for Iris's graduation next year.  You saw our daughter's first heartbreak, but you won't be there to walk her down the aisle.  We've watched our son and Rose Lupin dance around each other for years, but I'll be watching alone when they finally meet in the middle.  You'll never meet our grandchildren.  You'll never read the book I bought you for our anniversary.  Twenty five years, wouldn't that have been something?

 

I've known you most of my life.  I'm lucky, in that regard.  Together for twenty nine of those thirty seven years.  And it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

 

You haven't really left, have you, Severus?  Of course, I'll tell the kids you're always here with us, in our hearts, and looking down over us from wherever you went.  I hope it's true.  I'm sure it is.  I can feel you nearby, scoffing at me and muttering about my histrionics.  It's not nearly the same as watching you roll your eyes, or being able to swat your arm.  It's not the same as dancing with you at our children's weddings, or holding their newborn babes.  Knowing you're watching over us is no comfort when I can't fall asleep in your arms.  

 

Hermione's telling me you're in a better place now, as she blinks away tears.  She was your friend, you know?  You liked her, even if you'd never admit it, and she liked you, even if you didn't think it possible.  She's holding me close, and I want to tell her to eat her words.  Remus, Teddy, Rose, and Hugo stand behind her, and her family is whole, and she's lying.  Where in the world is better than here with me, and our family?  What could have been better than the rest of our lives together?

 

We were supposed to grow old together.  However many old jokes were spat by either of us, you weren't really.  We had decades ahead of us, Sev.  We had so many plans.  We had fiftieth and hundredth anniversaries to celebrate.  You had grandchildren and great grandchildren in your future.  We were going to travel more, when the kids were both out of the house.  You were going to retire from teaching, and when sitting around at home, grouching about boredom, got old you were going to open a shop.  We were going to go to go to the ocean this summer.  We were going to make a trip to Glasgow this weekend.  You never finished writing your books, Potions and Defense and all of the things you knew best.  You never even finished your crossword.  

 

You were supposed to die, old and frail, with an entire life lived and no regrets and nothing left to do.  You were supposed to leave later, when I could follow not long after.  Now I have an entire life to live and you won't be at my side.  No more snarky comments, no more stupid arguments, no more jokes at my expense or yours, no more working at dragging a laugh out of you.  No more making your coffee just the way you like it or your eggs just so, or making them wrong to hear you gripe.  No more dragging you out to Quidditch matches you secretly enjoyed.  No more walking through the gardens and fussing at me not to even look at your plants, because my near presence to ingredients would ruin your projects.  No more quiet nights by the fire, sipping cocoa.  No more hard nights with a shared bottle of firewhiskey. No more making love wherever and whenever we could, because that spark never, ever died.  Not after twenty four years, and it wouldn't have even dimmed by a hundred.  Not that we'll ever know, for sure.

 

Rose is hugging me now.  She loved you.  Uncle Sev'rus has been there her whole life, and her slender shoulders shake, but the tears don't fall until she falls into Evan's arms.  She holds him a little tighter and he's crying silently with his chin on her head.  Iris grips my hand and buries herself into my side and I wrap my arm around her and kiss her head and try very hard to be strong.  

 

Ron and Lavender are next.  Ron says he'll miss having a chess partner who can actually keep up with him.  However much you two griped, you know you grew on each other.  Neville and Ginny are after them.  Then Luna and Rolf, and it's all endless people, offering their condolences, and I don't want the sympathy.  

 

I want less to attend the burial.  I sit with our children on either side of me and listen to people sing your praises.  Your formative years were mentioned, how brilliant you had been at such a young age, and how pivotal your role had been in the war.  You were a hero, a teacher, a genius.  Ironic that the disease you'd been trying to cure had been your downfall.  You'd faced more dangerous obstacles in life, cured more dangerous illnesses, but this one took you, this silly Muggle thing.  

 

"He was the bravest man I ever knew," I tell them, and I drone on and on and it's all very clinical.  I think you'd prefer it that way.  I don't want them in your life, in our lives, anymore than you would have wanted that.  I tell them that I love you, always will, and it's true, but that's all they get.  They don't get to hear how we fell in love, helping each other recover from the war and it's damages.  They don't get to know how our relationship blossomed, how we married, or how you slaved over a cauldron so that we could have the children.  Impersonal, ineloquent, and they can think as they please.  Somethings were meant for us, and us alone, love.  

 

They weren't there in your final weeks.  They didn't see the strong, proud man I loved become stronger and prouder in spirit, even as physically he was diminished and humiliated.  You were brave until the end, offering more comfort to me and Evan and Iris than we ever were to you.  I may have made your meals and I may have brought your potions, but you offered your encouragement to us.  You told Evan how proud you were of him, even if he'd been a Gryffindor, and he laughed and you smiled a little.  You told Iris she was beautiful, and apologized for giving her your nose.  She sobbed in your arms and you held her as best you could and called her your angel like you hadn't done since she was a child.  You told me you'd come this far without saying those three little words, and you'd be damned if you started now, and you must have failed if I didn't already know.  You must have known, because at the very end, you wanted me there with you, and I wrapped myself around you and you kissed me and you whispered, for the first and last time, "I love you", and you breathed your last breath and I have never in my life hated you more.

 

Now you're in the ground and everyone's gone and I sit in the grass with the children.  Our tears are dried, but they're not the last you'll get from us.  The sun is shining overhead and the day is too warm for winter, too bright for burying my husband.  They're both grown, but they cling to me like they were young all over again, faces buried against me, arms wrapped around mine.  I tell them stories all afternoon, about our lives, about things they might not remember.  Iris laughs a little, and Evan smiles, and we can be happy again, one day.  But you'll always be something missing from us, and we'll never forget you and we'll never completely heal.  You were more important than you'll ever know.

 

I love you, you great git.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I may, possibly, have cried while writing this. I couldn't help myself, with the news today. :( RIP Alan Rickman.
> 
> Harry's POV, obviously. Second POV inspired by a book I'm reading.


End file.
